


Whitemail

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-23
Updated: 2004-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Practice makes perfect, and Major Klaus is the perfect NATO operative</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whitemail

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hunter

 

 

In the silent dark room, Klaus's eyes opened. Within seconds, he'd thrown off his covers and padded to his alarm clock. He checked to make sure he'd beaten the alarm by the requisite two minutes or less, then turned it off, grudgingly content.

In the near-total blackness, Klaus walked to his dresser and started to get dressed, pulling on socks and changing his briefs before pulling off his nightshirt and quickly tugging on an undershirt. He took seven steps to the closet and chose today's shirt from its hanger, buttoning it up tightly at the neck and wrists. The tie he selected was plain, and dark red -- not that he could see the color or needed to. Klaus had been dressing in the dark as long as he could remember. Throughout his boyhood, there'd been no door between Nurse's room and his, and it was never wise to wake her up. As appearing in the rest of the house without proper attire was unthinkable, he'd learned to do what was necessary quietly, efficiently, and without the luxury of light. After all, practice makes perfect.

Slacks next, then belt and shoes. Thirty years later, he still let out a small sigh of relief when safely covered. His stomach started to growl as he brushed his hair a hundred strokes, but he ignored it. There was an order to each morning, and that order would be preserved. His dry toast and black coffee could wait.

******

"Oh, there you are." B was waiting anxiously at reception, ready to escort Dorian through security. "We had begun to worry," he said. "And I think they've already started the tests."

"That's all right. I'm sure I'll catch up." Dorian hated to be late, but tried to accept the fact that being determined to look your best at all times sometimes required missing certain social deadlines.

B took him down a horribly gray hallway, through a security door (Dorian surreptitiously peeked at the password as B punched it in, just to stay in practice) and into a narrow glass-lined hallway. The glass turned out to be sliding doors, and each one led to a separate observation room. "We're in room 7, Eroica." Dorian couldn't help looking around. Observation was something of a specialty of his, but he'd never seen anything so elaborate -- it was similar to an interrogation room, but more technological, with cameras and monitors and videotape running. More importantly, through the one-way glass, he could see Klaus! Klaus and Z actually, sitting stiffly at opposite ends of an unremarkable couch in a nearly empty small room. He felt a flutter in his chest, just as he always did when he was near his dear wire rope.

"Eroica! So glad you could make it." The Chief, rotund as ever, stood up from a desk cluttered with more electronic gear. Dorian was briefly afraid he was going to get his cheeks kissed -- ick! -- but the Chief settled for a handshake. "This assignment -- teaching these agents -- is going to be a challenge unlike any other we've ever set before you."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. He was used to client hyperbole, of course, but the word 'challenge,' combined with Klaus' presence, certainly aroused his interest.

"Tell me more."

********

During the first break, Klaus read the briefing paper again, from the beginning, hoping that they had made the assignment sufficiently clear. At least it was short, if not sweet in any way.

> Report to Observation Room 18 to practice behaving inappropriately with Major Eberbach. This practice will be recorded and evaluated for verisimilitude. If sufficient skill is reached, you will behave inappropriately with Major Eberbach in semi-public with the goal of being observed by the Russian agent Misha. (See Briefing paper 3.14d3 for details of Misha's current operation.) Note: although behavior must be inappropriate enough to allow Misha to believe you can be blackmailed, this is not license to behave any more inappropriately than necessary. 

Despite the fact he could already repeat back the entire paper verbatim, Klaus read it again. Everything had been planned to the best of his ability. Now he just needed to wait until that damned Eroica finally arrived.

********

An hour later, "a challenge unlike any other" no longer seemed like hyperbole.

Once he'd had the goal explained to him, Dorian thought the hardest part would be quelling his jealousy enough to watch Z touching Klaus and Klaus touching Z, and he wasn't wrong. On the other hand, they were so bad at it, and he had so little luck helping them improve, watching them also lashed at his professional pride.

Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. "Agent B, they're... they're horrible."

"Worse than horrible," B agreed.

They stared, appalled, as Klaus nearly put Z's eye out while kissing him hello.

B waited until he and Eroica stopped laughing, and turned on the microphone to the room behind the one-way glass. "Well, perhaps you're not really the 'hello kiss' sort of people. Um, Major Eberbach? Why don't you help Agent Z out of his coat." B let the microphone click shut and they all held their breath.

As Dorian feared, when K pulled Z's arm out of his coat, he tugged him around hard enough to spin him like a top. Before Z regained his balance, he landed on the couch, and chose to stay there.

Ignoring Dorian's shudders, B clicked the mike again and said, "That's... lovely. You got him onto the couch, and looked very... eager. But Agent Z, maybe you'd better take your own coat off? And Major Eberbach, why don't you take a break for a moment? Go get a drink of water."

He turned the mike off before Klaus could answer, and turned back to Dorian. "They're not even remotely convincing, are they?"

Dorian shook his head 'no', still shuddering occasionally as he looked through the one-way glass. "For one thing, I've seen Z face madmen with Uzis looking less scared than he does right now. There's no way Mischa's going to buy them as a couple."

B peered through the glass at Z's still shaking form. "Dammit, Eroica, I am afraid you are right. But he is the only one the Chief felt could stand up to Iron Klaus."

"Z's not the real problem. Why did you people think Klaus could do this?" Dorian thought for a second about the complete idiocy of NATO over the years. "Never mind about that. I'm more curious to know how you got Klaus to agree."

"All I know is he and the Chief were together in his office for hours, and once Klaus came out, he wouldn't say a word to anyone. Were it not disloyal, I also would like to know how the Chief got Major Eberbach to agree."

Dorian smiled at B's careful use of the subjunctive. As usual, when he was alone with members of the alphabet, he found them quite...sympathetic.

While they were talking, Klaus returned from his time-out and started again. They watched, riveted, each precise step as Klaus took off his coat, opened his lighter, and tried to light Z's cigarette. Unfortunately for Z's bangs, they both leaned in a little too far, and before B or Dorian could say anything, Z's long waves were on fire.

"Mien Gott!" Z screamed. "Major Eberbach!"

Once released from his charade, Klaus acted quickly to put out the flames. He dumped Z's glass of red wine over his hair and impeccably pressed white shirt, grabbed his coat, and stomped out of the testing room without a word.

Dorian made as if to follow him but B grabbed his arm. "No, Eroica -- the Chief will want to talk to you first." Dorian eyed the smoke still rising from Z's hair and reluctantly let B call Klaus' boss.

The Chief arrived almost immediately, and with one glance, seemed to sum up their afternoon. He clicked the mike open and said, "Agent Z. Thank you for your hard work." He glanced at his watch. "Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off -- get a trim, perhaps? -- and we'll see you back here first thing tomorrow, yes?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Splendid," and turned back to Dorian. "It was good of you to come in today, Eroica. It wasn't your fault. Some people are beyond teaching."

"That's very kind of you, Chief --" Dorian hunched down a little so he could look up through his eyelashes at the shorter man. "--but my professional bona fides are now in question. When I am hired for a job, that job gets done." Dorian tried to speak the Chief's language, hoping he was doing better at it than when Z tried to speak his.

"Well said, well said. I'm very glad to hear you say that, Eroica. I have a meeting I need to attend on this very matter. If you'd like to join me?"

Dorian stood, gently brushing his slacks, trying to convince the wrinkles they'd be happier in other people's clothing. The Chief motioned for Dorian to precede him. If Dorian's mother had taught him anything, it was how to give in gracefully when he was winning. "Very well," he said, and headed down yet another gray hall.

Dorian's eyes drifted around the room casually. The conference room could have been anywhere in the world: classically horrible fluorescent light (that he suspected did nothing for his skin color), conference table of awkward shape and size trimmed with offensively unconvincing fake wood, a number of officious and badly dressed members of upper management, each one with more chins and a thicker neck than the one before. All in all, it was the last place in the world he expected to have people ask him about blow jobs.

The man just past Chief Weiss -- Dorian mentally tagged him ET for Egregious Tie -- was expostulating, "You can't ask a member of the corps to do that. There has to be a way that can be faked."

"Eroica?"

All heads in the room turned to stare openly at him. Usually he took stares as his due, but in this crowd, it rather made his skin crawl.

"Well--"

"Excuse me--" Abnormally Large Nose interrupted Chief Weiss to ask, "--what is this man's proficiency in this area?"

Dorian carefully pasted on his blandest expression and looked to the Chief, as curious as any of the others to hear exactly what he'd say.

"We'd hoped at the beginning of this operation to keep this affaire completely within house. Unfortunately, it turned out that we didn't have the specific expertise necessary here at NATO Bonn. And trying to train both Klaus and Z was too much for such a rush project."

 _Oh, beautifully put._ Dorian turned his laugh into a gentle cough, carefully contained behind his mauve lawn handkerchief.

"Eroica is an established NATO contractor who has worked with this department successfully before, and his professionalism and expertise--" one more use of that word, and Dorian was afraid he might choke himself "--are indisputable."

"Yes, yes, stipulated. Back to our point. Can that be faked?"

"Yes and no, sir." Dorian took a drink of water, making them wait. "At the very least, a certain level of nudity is going to be required, as well as a certain amount of..." Dorian coughed again for effect and turned to the Chief. "Sir, what level of detail do we need to go into here?"

"Quite right, Eroica. The basics should be in the operation documents, gentlemen; let us know if you have additional questions."

At first the quiet was broken solely by the flutter of paper. Then a snort, a laugh, a muffled, "Iron Klaus!" The rest of the room skimmed ahead until laughter filled the room.

ET said what they were apparently all thinking. Staring at Dorian he blurted, "You're going to kiss Eberbach? Touch him? Expect him to touch you?" His voice lowered dramatically, "Have sex with him?" He turned away from Dorian as if he were no longer there, his lips pursed like he wanted to spit. "Chief Weiss. This is ridiculous; it will never work. I can not sign off on this operation."

"Oh, enough, Walchenstein. Both members of the team are trained professionals, willing to do what needs to be done to confound NATO's enemies. Eroica will be able to carry the bulk of the deception. They each understand the importance of this operation. And remember, they've worked together before, successfully."

'Successfully,' Dorian mused. _That was one way to put it._

Dorian was abruptly glad Klaus was so late. He waited for the Chief to quell their humor, but he apparently had said his piece, and just sat there as people continued their pointless innuendo.

Dorian stood, capturing their attention. "Gentlemen, Klaus von der Eberbach has been shot, knifed--" he heard a gasp, and continued, "--electroshocked, nearly drowned, starved, kidnapped and beaten for NATO. He deserves better from you." Finally, he realized they weren't look _at_ him, but _through_ him. He turned around, only to realize that with the perfect timing he was known for, Klaus had finally arrived.

After that, it was all over but the shouting. Unfortunately for Dorian's need for coffee, the shouting lasted another hour and a half. At the end of it, though, all of the leads there -- including a very quiet and withdrawn Major Eberbach -- had signed off on the new version of the plan.

As everyone milled around after the meeting, Dorian managed to slip the Chief's eye and head out to scout for coffee.

"So, you must be happy."

"Z!" He'd barely made it down a single hallway before Z had appeared out of nowhere.

"What do you mean, happy?" Dorian couldn't help thinking Z looked terrible. Tired, drained, and...guilty, or ashamed -- Dorian had always had a hard time telling one from the other.

"That I failed. That you have your chance."

"Oh, honey. You didn't fail. Klaus is... Klaus is impossible, you know that."

"But you're sure you're going to do fine, aren't you?"

Dorian honestly wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing. He knew he hadn't been happy watching Z and Klaus together (even when he'd been amused at just how awkward they were); but the news that he'd be taking over for Z hadn't really sunken in yet. A chance to spend time with Klaus, to touch him, to be touched by him... Oh god, he felt his breath coming faster. Apparently he was happy, to say the least!

Dorian reached out to smooth Z's collar, bent untidily under his fall of thick hair. Z flinched, leaning away from him, and Dorian pulled back his hand, stung. "I didn't ask for this. I had no idea the Chief would ask for me to do it."

Z merely raised an eyebrow, tiredly dismissive. "You won't like it; you think you will, but you won't." He blew out a frustrated breath, then straightened his shoulders. "You know that you should not be roaming the halls unescorted, Eroica. Let me take you back to the observation room."

"As long as you send someone for coffee, you can take me anywhere." Flirting was so ingrained, he couldn't seem to turn it off even when he wanted to. As it happened, Z paid it no mind. He just dropped Dorian off in the other half of the observation room. The half with a mirror instead of a window; with an ugly colorless couch instead of chairs; the half that had Klaus in it.

Oh Right now, Klaus was atypically still, sitting on the couch with his overcoat pulled tight around him. His usually impeccable hair seemed windblown, his nose and eyes a little red -- from the smoke? -- and his high noble brow was pulled tight with strain. But even tired and pissed off, Klaus had an aura, a quality that drew the eye.

They both sat silently-- Dorian looking at Klaus, Klaus looking at the floor -- until Dorian was about to scream from the tension.

The slight squawk of the microphone was actually a relief. "Let's start with the hello kiss, shall we?"

*******

*Squawk* "Major Eberbach, why don't you take Eroica's coat."

Klaus walked up behind Eroica and grabbed each shoulder pad of his coat firmly. Eroica leaned back into him slightly, and smiled coquettishly over one shoulder. _Disturbing._ Their faces were just inches apart. Eroica pulled his arms through each sleeve quite slowly, making the entire operation more seductive than Klaus had realized was possible. "Pervert," he muttered under his breath, not even knowing if he wanted Eroica to hear it, or if it was just for his own sake.

*Squawk*

When he leaned in to light the fop's cigarette, Eroica bent forward slightly at an angle, ensuring that his lightly scented blond curls cascaded gently over Klaus' forearm. It made all the hairs on his arm stand up, and he barely resisted the desire to scratch like an urchin.

"Practice makes perfect," he thought to himself over and over, keeping a steady beat of white noise in his head as a counterpoint to the annoying requests coming through the microphone, and the infuriating jumble of innuendo and foppishness flowing out of the Endlessly Annoying Earl. "Practice makes perfect," he thought as he rested his hand on Dorian's jaw and leaned in precisely far enough to make it appear that he had kissed Dorian's smooth cheek.

*Squawk* "Eroica, why don't you try to--" there was a pause, "--takeoffhisshirt." He could see Dorian considering asking Agent B to repeat his instruction, but then let it go. Interesting how they were both acting against their nature today. Klaus pushed himself back more firmly into the couch, giving himself as much of an anchor as possible, and waited anxiously for Dorian's pale hands to start to touch him.

To his surprise, he barely felt a thing. Dorian was careful to touch only the buttons, pulling his shirt out from his chest just enough to undo each one. He stared at Dorian's chest -- at the shirt covering Dorian's chest -- and wondered if such delicacy would have occurred to him if he were the one performing the undressing.

*Squawk* "Eroica -- you know what needs to happen next. We'll leave it up to you to decide how it should be best done."

Klaus heard a mental echo from the infernal authorization meeting: the Chief talking about Dorian's _expertise_. How strange that he'd actually have a chance to -- he shook his head hard -- be forced to experience it personally.

"Klaus, are you okay?" Dorian whispered.

"I'm fine. Do your job."

Dorian apparently didn't need any more encouragement. Without a pause, he leaned down and carefully pulled at a loose fold of Klaus' undershirt, giving it a slow steady tug until it was free of Klaus's trousers, then pulling it high enough to reveal Klaus' chest. He repeated his mantra again, ignoring how all of the skin of his chest, and his...lower chest seemed to be tingling. Annoying. He would get used to it.

Dorian folded gently until he was kneeling on the floor in front of him. Like so many other things Dorian did, it was oddly graceful. Dorian put his hands on Klaus' thighs, gently drew them apart, and slowly leaned into the space he'd created. Klaus could feel the warmth of Dorian's hands through the fabric of his slacks. As Dorian moved his hands up, onto either side of his zipper, Klaus could barely breath. He repeated, "Practice makes perfect," over and over in his head, but the words were beginning to lose their meaning, becoming nonsense sounds. Dorian's hands opening his zipper were strangely clumsy -- and the zipper itself seemed louder than it ever had before, almost like the slide action sound of Klaus' favorite pistol. Strange how much trouble he was having breathing, considering he was just sitting on a couch.

Once his pants were open, Dorian leaned in close, his face almost touching the hands still resting on Klaus' pants. Dorian whispered, "we'll just fake it from here, right? You pant, and I'll move."

Klaus stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

*****

Dorian stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Klaus had seemingly gone completely catatonic. Now what? he wondered. Dorian should have realized that this was going to be the sticking point, but up until now, things had been going amazingly well. The observers were blessedly unobtrusive; only occasionally asking them to repeat a step or two when Klaus seemed abnormally rigid or awkward. For the most part, his foul-tempered love seemed to have remembered that he was a highly trained operative, capable of any sort of activity necessary to bring down an opponent. Sure Klaus was stiff and a bit self conscious, but Mischa would expect that, even if they were having an affaire de coeur.

But now... Klaus could hardly have picked a more awkward moment to suddenly go catatonic. Dorian suddenly remembered all of the times Klaus had overreacted to relatively innocent remarks or touches. He felt completely off balance, crouching on his knees, just a very thin piece of white stretch cotton away from a part of Klaus' body that he'd never been so close to before. A part he wished he was happier to be near. He suspected that Klaus had never tried to work while someone, anyone was this close to him. Oh well, he thought, I suppose that's why we're doing a runthrough, first.

Metaphorically throwing up his hands, Dorian started to gently bob his head up and down as if he had Klaus in his mouth. He didn't know if he'd ever felt more ridiculous, or more uncomfortable. The swelling beneath Klaus' thin briefs was getting stiffer, but right now, that actually seemed to add only to the awkwardness of the whole situation. The rest of Klaus' body was nearly as stiff, and Klaus' face was turning a scary shade of red. Dorian honestly didn't know what to do. Each of his breaths rang loudly in his ears, while Klaus seemed to have stop breathing altogether.

*Squawk* "Well, I think that will do for now. Thanks so much to both of you."

Dorian bounced up like a jack in the box, freed from his task. Let Klaus zip himself back up; Dorian had completely run out of the sort of control necessary to do it without Klaus coming even more unglued. In fact, Dorian abruptly realized he was exhausted. Maybe (despite his occasional exhibitionist tendency) he was more used to evading observation than living under it; or maybe it was just the effects of walking an emotional minefield with the world's most frustrating man. He vaguely noted the Chief's thanks and promise to get in contact with him if the operation was fully green-lighted, but it seemed far more important to pull his coat back on and belt it tightly. When B offered an escort to the security entrance, he accepted wordlessly, and and left without a backward glance.

At the door, he was amazed to see that it was still afternoon. By his tiredness, he would have sworn that it was late evening. He started his Lamborghini and cranked his stereo, not leaving the parking lot until Mozart poured over him. After what had happened, he was determined to not to think again for as long as was possible. He hadn't given up, not by a long shot. But he was beginning to suspect his wire rope was even more twisted than he'd realized.

*****

Klaus untied his thick black robe and hung it up carefully. Finally it was time for the final task of the day, getting clean. Klaus moved his rubber ducky out of the way, created a hole in the suds to step into, and laid down into the deep tub with a breath of relief, before starting his routine. First his hair. He soaped it thoroughly, and ducked his head under two or three times to rinse it clean, letting all the events of the day flow away, just like Nurse taught him.

Then he grabbed his horse-hair scrub brush and started scrubbing, not stopping until his skin was a angry red everywhere. Lastly, distastefully, he used the brush circumspectly to clean himself there, careful to get under the foreskin without touching himself any more than necessary.

After his final two minute soak, he drained the water and towelled off briskly, pulling his nightshirt down as soon as he was dry, and tugging his briefs on underneath with a minimum of effort. Practice makes perfect, he thought, I just need to keep practicing with him until I can do everything right. He moved into the dark of his bedroom, pulled back his sheet and got into bed.

 

 

 


End file.
